


An Immodest Proposal

by tsurai



Series: Dragon Age tumblr prompts [8]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:54:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28903008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsurai/pseuds/tsurai
Summary: With Kirkwall’s new Viscount under pressure from the nobles and Guilds to get hitched, Hawke decides to propose fake marriage. Varric recognizes a trope when he sees it.
Relationships: Male Hawke/Varric Tethras
Series: Dragon Age tumblr prompts [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119719
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	An Immodest Proposal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kyogre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyogre/gifts).



Hawke’s words take a moment to seep through Varric’s focus on the letter to Brulan Sasca, only halfway through writing another rejection of the guildsman’s daughter’s hand. This is the third damn time he’s had to turn Sasca down, and there are already grumblings in the Guild about Varric needing an heir...

Varric’s quill skids across the parchment as Hawke’s question finally sinks in. He stares at the line of ink for a long moment before looking up at Hawke where the human sits across the desk. 

“Come again?” he asks, not quite believing his ears.

Hawke has never been able to fool Varric – the man’s abysmal attempts at bluffing always failed him, even during Wicked Grace – but in the aftermath of Adamant and Weisshaupt and Kirkwall putting the Viscount’s crown on Varric’s head, something has changed.

“I said,” and Hawke’s face doesn’t change from its unreadable blankness, but the air around him feels strangely brittle, “that you should marry me. It’ll get Bran and the Merchant’s Guild off your ass–”

“Hawke–”

“–and I’m famous enough they can’t complain about my status–”

“Hawke, that’s not–” 

“–if you’re worried about it not being Chantry-sanctioned, you know the Inquisitor would officiate–”

“ _Garrett_ ,” Varric says, and the minute widening of his eyes and the way Hawke swallows in response to the name thankfully shatters that blankness. Varric’s gut clenches when Hawke doesn’t look away. “That isn’t what you said.”

Hawke hesitates, sighs as he sinks further into the cushy chair meant for visiting dignitaries.

“Will you marry me, Varric?” A pause, before he tries to tease: “It worked in your books.” 

At long last, Varric sets down the quill that’s been slowly dripping ink on the ruined letter, rubbing his temples to stave off the oncoming headache. He can still feel divots in his skin from the damn iron crown he has to wear all day.

“This isn’t one of my novels – and you’re thinking of Isabela’s friend fictions,” he corrects.

“C’mon, you can’t tell me you didn’t mention a marriage of convenience at least _once_ in Swords and Shields?”

“Okay, in the second– that’s not the point, Hawke.” 

In the face of his frown, Hawke sighs, running a hand through his hair without meeting Varric’s eyes. 

“Look, I heard about Bianca–” and he looks up just in time to catch the wince Varric can’t hide. “Yeah, so I know why you don’t want to marry anyone. I figured, this way it’d be someone you can stand,” Hawke says, mouth pulling into his trademark smile, as if it’s really that easy.

Varric slides his hands under the desk, the better to hide his clenching fists. He’s not in the mood to explain about him and Bianca, not after what happened in Valammar, even if he’s sure Hawke’s heard more than enough from the Inquisition’s side. 

“And what’s in it for you?” Varric grinds out, trying to get them off the topic of Bianca, watching as Hawke’s smile goes tight at the corners of his eyes. Hawke cups his hands together, exaggeratedly pleading.

“Why, my own handsome dwarf to take care of me in my retirement, of course!” 

It could be the truth – Hawke never lost his noble status, despite defending the mage who blew the Chantry to the Void, but he no longer has the deep pockets that came from years establishing himself as a nobleman mercenary in Kirkwall. It makes perfect sense in the context of Hawke looking for somewhere safe to roost after so long on the run. It would also solve many of the problems Varric’s been running into with the Guilds. 

It could be the truth, but it’s not. Varric looks back down at the stack of letters he still has to reply to and finds he doesn’t have the energy to beat around the bush.

“I appreciate the offer, Hawke, but I’ll have to pass.” He gestures at the letter on his desk that he’ll have to rewrite with a sigh. “I’m not really into the whole marriage thing without feelings involved.”

He grabs a fresh sheet of parchment to start anew, sure that’ll be the end of it when Hawke interjects:

“And if there were feelings involved?” 

Varric freezes, glad he hasn’t picked up the quill again yet. When he slowly looks up to meet them, Hawke’s eyes are blank. Suddenly, Varric hates that lack of expression almost as much as he hates red lyrium. 

But Hawke said...

“If there were feelings involved,” he starts, trying desperately to quash the hot hope blooming in his chest, “I’d ask why now.” Why _now_ , and not anytime in the previous decade. 

“Well, you’ve never bitched so much about marriage before–” Hawke starts but throws up his hands with another strained grin when Varric frowns at him. “And you had Bianca, anyway.”

“You didn't know about her until last year.”

At that, the grin drops, his mien flashing between embarrassment and discomfort as, for the first time in literal years, Varric watches red seep into Hawke’s cheeks.

“Then it was because you’re not into humans, or men. Because you’re the only one that hasn’t _left_ , and I wasn’t going to fuck that up.” It’s stated like a fact, an inevitable truth of the universe.

Varric doesn’t know where to start with that – all of it is wrong. But he can’t say that, not without being a gigantic hypocrite. 

“I’m an idiot,” he sighs, and stands up from his desk. It’s only because he’s keeping a close eye that he sees Hawke’s aborted twitch. “Half the crew was in love with you, you know,” he says conversationally, making his way around the desk. “We had a bet going on who would actually get your attention.” 

Varric watches the _we_ land, now close enough to watch Hawke’s eyes go wide and dark as he takes in the information. Hawke opens his mouth, closes it, then licks his lips as his gaze flickers over Varric’s face. 

Still, the man hesitates. 

“And.. who did you bet on?” 

“Not myself.” Varric laughs under his breath, and takes a step into Hawke’s space. Sitting down, he’s only a head taller than Varric – easy enough to reach up, to cup a hand to the side of Hawke’s face and drag a thumb along his cheekbone. Hawke turns his head into it, and Varric feels more than sees the testing glance of lips against his wrist. “I owe Rivaini twenty sovereigns,” Varric grumbles, and when he slides his hand behind Hawke’s head and pulls him down, he comes willingly, their lips meeting in a dry press. Hawke pulls back a bare inch to adjust the angle, then they’re kissing again, one of Hawke’s arms sliding around his waist, making Varric’s heart speed in his chest. 

Hawke sucks in a breath when they pull apart, their eyes meeting. 

They both break into laughter.

“I can’t believe you _proposed to me_ instead of confessing.”

“I can’t believe _you_ didn’t bet on yourself.” Hawke sounds incredulous. “You’re an author, aren’t you supposed to be more observant? How did Isabela know when you didn’t?” 

“To be fair, she put money down on everyone but Donnic.”

“Everyone but– even _Aveline_?” 

By the time Varric stops laughing at the face Hawke made, Hawke is looking at him more solemnly, mouth red and wet, crooked in a smile Varric can’t quite take his eyes off. The hug that Hawke pulls him into is unexpected, but he sinks into the tight embrace with the weight of years finally sloughing off his shoulders. 

“I love you, you know,” Hawke murmurs in his ear. Varric sucks in a sharp breath, his heart clenching hard. He tightens his grip around Hawke’s shoulders.

This… this is good. Varric, for once in his life, gets to have what he wants. He turns his face into the crook of Hawke’s neck and presses his mouth just where skin meets the edge of Hawke’s beard.

“Yeah, I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can follow or prompt me [on tumblr](https://tsuraiwrites.tumblr.com/)


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